


Facile Princeps

by pqlaertes



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Marriage, daydream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pqlaertes/pseuds/pqlaertes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it would be like, if Benny married her.</p><p>Due Credit 1999, 3rd Place Fraser/Other Woman</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facile Princeps

The tall glass of orange juice tilted, rocked upright, and then rocked down again, falling on its side and splashing juice in a sticky tidal wave across the table.

Benton Fraser, sleep still cloudy in his eyes, blinked down at the bright flower of orange on the center of his chest and muttered thanks that he hadn't put on his uniform tunic before breakfast.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry!" Francesca wailed, quickly righting the glass and running for the paper towels. Fraser stood up and shrugged his suspenders down. By the time he had the shirt off, Francesca was cleaning up the mess on the table. She nearly knocked over the bright cardboard container of milk with her elbow and winced when Fraser carefully righted it and moved it out of the way.

Gently he took the roll of paper towels from her hand and finished blotting up the orange juice from under his plate, catching it all before any could drip to the linoleum. He cleaned off the cereal boxes and the sticky bottle of syrup and then gathered the soggy pile of orange-stained towels from the middle of the table and carried them off to the kitchen.

"Just turn the iron back on and I'll make you some more waffles." Francesca called; he could hear water running and, faintly, the sounds of frantic scrubbing. Fraser did a quick calculation and realized he wouldn't have time to eat any waffles she might start cooking now before he had to leave for work. He pulled out the half-loaf of rye from the breadbox and rummaged in the refrigerator for cheese. He filled a jelly-jar glass with milk and drank deeply.

Francesca finally came racing back from the bedroom with his tunic and another shirt. She took in the cold waffle iron and the cheese sandwich. "No time, huh?"

He shook his head.

Francesca sighed and carefully hung his clothes over the back of a chair. "I, um, I think I got the stain out before it could set."

She always did. "Good."

She already had her mascara on and it was starting to smear just a little around her left eye. "I'm really sorry. I mean, I know I always do something like this, and then you're late to work and --"

He stood up, chewed, swallowed carefully, and then laid two fingers over her lips. "Shh."

"I'm sorry." She repeated behind his fingers.

"It's alright, Francesca." He gathered her in, feeling her silky hair against his bare chest. "It's fine." She clung to his arms.

Her robe slipped off one shoulder, revealing a lacy strap and the dark marking of a love bite. Fraser dropped his head slowly to nudge the strap out of the way and kiss her shoulder, her neck. "It's fine." He was going to be late to work after all.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him and he felt those perfectly manicured nails rake lightly through his hair before her hands slid down his back. He inhaled deeply -- Passion Flower perfume and strawberry shampoo and hairspray.

Very late.

"Benton . . ." Francesca sighed, letting her head fall slowly back, "you're

 

not listening, are you?"

Fraser's head jerked up and he looked across the table at his lovely wife. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

She fixed him with those clear blue eyes. "I said I'll be in Ottawa for six days. Please don't forget to have the grass cut. And see if you can't get the rug shampooed."

Fraser looked down at the thick pile rug under the table, it looked very clean to him, spotless. "I won't forget, Meg."

"I hope not." She lifted the glass pitcher and poured herself orange juice, not spilling a drop. "Hurry and eat; we don't want to be late."

 

===

1996


End file.
